


The Inn

by ShyLady



Series: Brienne, the lady in waiting [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Sorority, kinda post ADWD, kinda post TWOW
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:34:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23640157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShyLady/pseuds/ShyLady
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Brienne, the lady in waiting [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701877
Comments: 52
Kudos: 63





	1. The court

Spring in King’s Landing was nothing like spring in Tarth. The winter cold was still not far away in the city, there were more rainy days, and when it was hot, it was very humid. In Tarth it rained very little, and when it did was always a warm and light drizzle. The sea breeze was salty and fresh, and the days were long and sunny. Brienne missed her island too much.

Jaime never met her in the yard. A squire handed her a piece of paper with his seal, explaining that the Hand had sent him out of King’s Landing. She was disappointed.

Brienne decided to give Ser Addam Marbrand a chance. He was a good swordsman, not the best, but good enough to beat her two out of five times. Brienne also trained with Lady Alysane Mormont, who was skilled enough to give her a few bruises.

After the sparring, Brienne sought the peace of her rooms. She took a bath and changed her clothes. Then she went to the throne room to see Daenerys delivering justice.

That day the silver queen wore a beadnet dress of pearls and lapis lazuli, decorated with an overall lozenge pattern, over a linen dress. Her hair was combed in a complicated arrangement of heavy braids. A simple gold crown adorned with amethysts sparkled above her head. She was beautiful, the most beautiful woman ever seen in Westeros.

Brienne witnessed a queer spectacle. Two ambassadors from Yi Ti fought for a position in court. One was a scholar from Yin, the other was a noblewoman from Carcosa. Both wanted Daenerys’s favor for his emperor, and promised gold and silk in exchange. But the emperor in Yin and the emperor in Carcosa were different men, who disputed sovereignty in their own land.

She was very entertained when the Hand approached her.

“Lady Brienne,” he said softly and nodded at her to follow him out of the room.

“Lord Tyrion,” she bowed and went after him.

“A pleasure to see you again,” he told her politely.

Brienne raised an eyebrow; there was something behind those words, something she didn't like.

“How is my brother?” The Hand asked next.

“I presume that he speaks more with you than with me. Didn't you send him to Highgarden?”

Tyrion Lannister looked at her with his disparate eyes and smiled.

“So he told you,” he replied triumphantly.

Brienne realized that she had fallen into his nets. He felt her discomfort, so he added:

“Easy, Lady Brienne. My brother and I are not in the best disposition with each other. We work together to keep the queen's peace. I do it out of duty, he does it to keep his head on his shoulders. Everybody wins.”

Brienne doubted his altruistic intentions, as the Imp loved power very much.

“I sincerely hope that you both make amends,” she said with genuine concern.

“How sweet of you. To survive in court you need more than sweetness and a gentle heart.”

“Doesn't Daenerys have a gentle heart? It is what the bards say,” she replied defensively.

“She has a will of steel...and dragons. Do you have any dragons, my lady?”

“No. I'm just an heiress of an island.”

“You are heiress to Storm's End too and according to rumors, your father will be named Warden of the South.”

“But, the Tyrells hold that title,” she added stiffening.

“Rumors also has it your father was a close friend of the late Olenna Tyrell. We do not know how Mace will take the news,” Tyrion said with feigned innocence.

Brienne didn't like the feeling of being out of her element, so she decided to leave.

“If you excuse me, I must retire now.”

* * *

Sansa's letter was extensive. She always liked to write and tell Brienne about the rebuilding of Winterfell. Most of Westeros believed that Daenerys had burned down the castle to force the Starks to bend the knee. They did not know that something magical and evil had risen in the North.

Brienne liked to know about Sansa's plans, about Rickon's antics, about Jon Snow and Bran Stark standing guard at the Wall. Life seemed very calm in the north when the dead did not rise from their graves, of course.

Brienne put on a bedgown and laid down on the mattress. It was a cool night, so she pulled the covers over. She thought of Sansa and her letter. She thought of her father and his friendship with the Tyrells. She thought of Lord Tyrion and his cunning eyes, and more than anything of Jaime, Jaime and his elusive presence.

* * *

Brienne saw him emerging from one of the hallways of the new Tower of the Hand two weeks later. He was dressed in velveteen pants, high leather riding boots and chain mail over a tunic, a sword at his waist and a heavy crimson cloak around his shoulders. It was embroidered with a large coat of arms of his house, unlike the cloak he had given her, which had delicate lions and swords embroidered in gold threat. The sun was shining on his blond curls and thick beard.

“Ser Jaime,” Brienne said as she approached him with determination.

“Lady Brienne,” Jaime greeted her with all the intention to walk away.

_No this time._

“You did not come,” she scolded him, blocking his path.

“My brother sent me to Highgarden.”

“Are you lying to me now?” She inquired angrily.

“I sent you a message,” he replied, impatient.

“You promised me,” she insisted.

“I didn't promise you anything.” He was angry now.

“I’m not talking about sparring.”

“I'm not going to discuss **_that_** , right now.”

“Are you going to break your oath?”

He advanced and grabbed her shoulder.

“Don't speak to me like that, not **_you_** ,” he reproached her.

“I am tired of this. I see you and it's like you're a stranger to me. You are not the same man who left Harrenhall, or Pennytree, or the Wall.” Brienne said as her voice cracked. “You hardly look at me. Did I do something? It's my fault?”

Jaime rubbed his face, a hiss escaped from his lips.

“Not here. This is King's Landing. There are eyes and ears everywhere. What do you want? Aren't you afraid that the queen will believe you disloyal to her cause?”

“Do you want the crown?”

“No, of course not,” he said softly.

“Then she has nothing to fear from me.”

“And what will you do, my stubborn wench? Will you kill for me if I want the throne?” Jaime asked with a hint of amusement.

“I have already killed for you, if it pleases you to remember.” Brienne whispered.

Jaime regarded her with cold eyes.

“Do you want me to honor your silly wish? Fine, but don't say that I didn't warn you.” He said as he adjusted the heavy cloak around his shoulders. “My squire will come to see you later. Meanwhile, I don't want to hear anything else about you.”

“Ser Jaime,” she bowed as farewell.

“Lady Bienne,” he said mockingly and walked away at last.


	2. The queen.

_To survive in court you need more than sweetness and a gentle heart._

The words of Lord Tyrion had left a bitter taste. _Too bad_ , she thought. Brienne believed that her stay in King’s Landing was bearable and quite a success. Perhaps her good luck, staying away from the gossip and machinations of the court, was not enough, but she was not made for political strategies or diplomacy. She needed to return to Tarth, to feel the weight of Oathkeeper in her hand, away from curious eyes.

The night was rough, and Brienne had barely been able to fall asleep. Morning came and Pia woke her up. The girl was a good servant, kind and skillful. After a battle - Brienne no longer remembered if it was after the battle of the Dreadfort - Jaime had come to her tent with Pia and had told her that it was better to have some help, _female_ help. Brienne had reminded him that she had a squire, but he had insisted that she also need a servant. He had make up his mind. Since then, the girl was at her service. She was older than Brienne and more experienced in certain…matters. From what she had noticed, Pia had a strong affection for Jaime's squire, much to Pod's dismay. The boy seemed besotted with the young woman.

Breakfast was arranged on the table in her room, and there was a hot bath in a metal tub waiting for her. Brienne tried to enjoy herself a little more before starting the day.

“Do you want your hair different today, my lady?” Pia asked with enthusiasm, putting a box with hair jewelry on the dresser. There were silver combs, buckles adorned with sapphires, ribbons embroidered with gold thread, even a pearl-woven hairnet, and a simple tiara with a diamond in the center. Some things she had inherited from her mother, others were gifts from her father.

“Why? Do what you always do,” Brienne said startled and sat down in front of the silver mirror and the dresser.

“Weren't you going to visit the queen this morning?”

“Oh, I forgot,” Brienne sighed with some weariness.

“Aren't you pleased to appear before Queen Daenerys?” Pia asked as she gently brushed her lady's straight hair.

“If I say that I abhor the idea, some might think it’s treason,” Brienne half joked.

“Don't worry my lady, I won't tell anyone,” Pia said in a softer tone and Brienne didn’t know if the servant took her seriously.

“I'm not used to so much attention," Brienne complained. "The queen always asks me to attend her parties, the hearings where she delivers justice, her Cyvasse games or the discussions she has with her Hand. I’m tired.”

Pia arranged her hair into a braid. It was the only thing Brienne accepted and the young woman managed to make a different design each time.

“Maybe the queen likes you.”

“Maybe,” she whispered, looking in the mirror. Pia secured her hair with a black ribbon.

“Do you want a dress?” She asked.

“No!”

Pia laughed and went to find the clothes Brienne would wear.

* * *

Daenerys was not answering supplicants that day, so Brienne headed for another wing of the Red Keep where she knew the queen preferred to spend her spare time. It was a great hall with a high and magnificent dome. There was a marble fountain with an equally marble statue in the shape of a maiden, letting a trickle of water escape from her pitcher. The queen liked flowers, so large arrangements abounded in porcelain vases. There was also a small garden near the large windows. Huge green leaves folded on its stems, and climbing plants that didn't need much sun grew in the corners.

The queen was not alone. Some ladies, lords and knights were sitting next to her or scattered around the place in small groups, eating and drinking. There was a large table adorned with delicacies and frozen drinks for her Grace’s enjoyment. There were jugglers and fire eaters, half naked, throwing torches into the air. A slim woman with black hair that reached to the ground played the harp and sang a sweet song.

Brienne took courage and greeted Daenerys.

“Your Grace,” she bowed.

“Oh, Lady Brienne!" the queen exclaimed. "Come here, sit with me.”

The queen nodded, and one of the ladies got up and left a vacant chair. Brienne sat there. Then, the young queen took her arm and gave it a light squeeze.

“Has it been so long? When was the last time we met?" she asked absentmindedly.

“I don't know, your grace, maybe a week,” Brienne answered with a hint of unease. 

“You see? Time flies.”

It seemed a bit far-fetched to Brienne, but she wasn't about to antagonize her with so little.

“Did you like the dresses and garments that I sent you?” Queen Daenerys asked excited. 

“They…they are lovely,” Brienne said, unsure.

Daenerys gave her another squeeze and looked a little disappointed.

“But you don't like them.”

“The thing is…I'm…your grace, I’m not…I’m not built to wear gowns. I do like pretty garments, as everyone does. But I’m not comfortable with skirts or dresses. It doesn't quite fit me.”

The queen smiled with strange satisfaction.

“I respect your vision on the matter. Although I am determined now to find what might suit you.”

Brienne tried not to lose her patience.

“I love pants and tunics and vests.”

“Yes, I have noticed that you like them a lot, especially pants,” the queen smiled.

“They are very comfortable.”

“Yes, I have a few myself, especially for riding.”

“I enjoy that activity as well.”

“I know you enjoy sparring too. Is Ser Adam Marbrand a good partner?”

Brienne gasped.

“He is very capable,” she said. “I have also trained with Lady Alysane and Lady Obara. They are very good warriors.”

“I am thinking of doing a tournament. I do believe it’ll be something that will encourage the people and the nobles as well.”

“If that pleases you…your Grace.” Brienne said unconvinced.

“I want you to take care of that. With the Hand.”

That itself was a huge surprise.

“Thank you, your highness. It is an honor,” Brienne said stunned.

“I have invited Ser Gendry Waters. He was very brave in the North, and although he has the usurper's blood, he is a good man. I still haven't decided what honors and titles to give him. Perhaps I should choose a wife as a reward. You can help with that too.”

“Yes, your grace.”

Brienne had a bad feeling, but she consoled herself with the idea that she could at least fight again, even if it was in a tournament.

* * *

Jaime went to see his little brother. Tyrion arrived an hour later. Now he was a very busy man and he liked that everyone knew the fact, always. The room where the Hand worked was spacious, with large windows and an immense oak desk. His brother sat in front and with a gesture indicated Jaime that he could also sit.

“Daven will visit us the next full moon,” Tyrion said without preamble.

“And for what reason?”

“The queen plans to do a tournament and wants someone representing each house. Neither you nor I can, so Daven will have to be enough for the task.”

"Great!" Jaime exclaimed wryly.

Tyrion shrugged.

“And can the crown afford this?”

“We no longer have Littlefinger to help us, but I will find a way,” his little brother said.

“We do not have Littlefinger or the buffoon who followed him to get into further debt, if I remember correctly that Cersei did not...”

“Our sister did a lot of damage to the kingdom, and it is better to let her rest in peace,” Tyrion said with a dry tone.

“I don't think she rests; she must be crowned in the Seven Hells,” Jaime retorted.

“Considering that she died twice, I believe you.”

They looked at each other seriously for a moment and then laughed.

“Tell me one thing, you don't miss her one bit?” asked Tyrion with inquisitive eyes.

When Jaime recovered, he answered, feeling a stab in his chest.

“Of course. Almost all the time.”

“Well, I don't miss her, and I live better without her, even if you haven't asked me,” Tyrion said as he took some scrolls and started writing.

“The sincerity between the two is good, right?”

“Not so good. I still have debts to collect from you Jaime.”

“I have it in mind.”

* * *

Brienne received the message from Jaime asking her to go to an inn on the outskirts of the city. She got there, and she spoke to the owner, who directed her to go up to one of the rooms. Brienne had put on a brown roughspun cape, the hood over her head so they wouldn't identify her. The room was clean. On a table were a jug and two glasses. Brienne sat on the bed.

Jaime arrived later. He was also covered in a hooded cloak.

“You can frown and pout that mouth all you want, but I know you and I know you're not that angry,” he said, with a smile on his lips.

“How are you so sure?”

“You don't have the right shade of red.”

Brienne's eyes narrowed and Jaime laughed.

“You are impossible. Don't treat me like a child.”

“Don't behave like one.”

“I am a woman grown.”

“Really?" Jaime crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you wearing?”

Brienne looked at him suspiciously, but took off her cloak, showing her tunic and breeches.

“Oh,” Jaime said, seeming disappointed. “I thought you were going to bring one of Daenerys' gowns.”

He served both glasses and passed one to Brienne.

“Did you ask me to come here to make fun of me?" Brienne said dismayed. "You don't talk to me in weeks, even months, and now you make jokes.”

“You have a talent for exaggeration,” Jaime replied amused.

“You evade me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?” she asked, almost pleading.

“You are quick for many things, but not for this.”

“Your brother said something similar. Is it because of my father? For his position in court? Or is it because of Daenerys? You fear that I will disserve you in some way?”

“Gods,” he swore, smiling.

“What?” Brienne snorted in exasperation.

“I'm the one who doesn't want to harm you Brienne. And yes, it is for the queen and for your father. And for my brother. At King's Landing there are eyes and ears everywhere.”

“That is all?”

“Yes,” he answered bluntly.

“I'm not scared.”

“You should be more concerned with your reputation.”

“Words are wind.”

“Not for my brother. When I was in prison you sent several letters. They all got to Tyrion before me.”

“Oh,” she said and looked down.

“He believes that you are my lover, and _that_ word is the most dainty that I can find.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe when time passes, Tyrion will no longer be a pain in my ass. When you get back to Tarth and we are far from this city.”

“I do not know. Maybe I'll come back, married,” she simply said.

“I know all about married women.”

Brienne rolled her eyes and tried a little of her drink.

“Wine?” She grimaced.

“Oh, but you're a grown woman, right? A little wine won't hurt you,” he scoffed.

“I’ll do what I can to disguise our friendship if that makes you feel better,” she assured him with determination.

“Secrets, secrets.” Jaime mused. “You are not made for that.”


	3. The courtyard

Brienne dreamed of her mother. It was a beautiful dream where they both ran down the beach barefoot. Brienne was still a child, and she couldn't see her mother's face, just her blonde hair blowing in the wind. They were both laughing. Life was wonderful at that moment. Then the sky was covered with thick, black clouds, and a storm fell on them. Her mother did not like storms. She ran to the castle; Brienne tried to follow her, but she stumbled and fell into the mud. She was wet, and her new dress was dirty. That would disappoint her father.

"Mother!" she screamed several times.

Everything went dark and Brienne woke up in tears.

"Are you alright, my lady?" Pia asked. She was standing in front of the bed, her face worried.

"Everything is fine," Brienne said and tried to compose herself.

"You were asleep too long. It seemed strange to me, so I came to wake you up."

"Thank you," Brienne said a little stunned.

The dream made her feel anxious. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, thinking about her mother. She barely remembered her name. Elaynne, was that it? She feared to ask her father. He had never recovered from the loss. Her mother's memory was a distant pain for him. Brienne had seen him cry on the anniversary of her death every year for as long as she could remember.

She got out of bed and bathed, and then she ate a breakfast of milk, hard boiled eggs, fried bread and apples without much appetite. She tried a little bit of everything under Pia's watchful eye. She ate enough, so as not to falter in the yard, and without wasting time dressed.

Brienne had to accompany Queen Daenerys to the kingswood, but she had most likely already left with her entourage. The queen had decided to practice archery. Some lords had told her it was not a lady's thing, but the queen had insisted that along with horseback riding, archery would be a good exercise for highborn ladies. Brienne couldn't agree more, although she was silent. Lady Margaery had supported the idea and with her customary enthusiasm, had organized the group of ladies who would go with the queen.

Brienne was on that list, of course. There was no activity in which they did not include her, and she felt that she would soon run away from the duties of a lady-in-waiting, taking a boat to Essos to be done with the ordeal.

Because Brienne was late, she went to the courtyard to distract herself.

On her way, she heard a sweet voice singing an old song from a corridor like a distant echo.

_Your hills and dales and flowery vales…_

The sound of a flute delicately accompanied the singer, and Brienne felt strangely transported to her castle in Tarth.

_Your vines that blow by Maiden's grove…_

When she was little she loved to listen to bards while they promised brave knights and everlasting love. But now she knew that knights could also be cowards and treacherous, and that love was fickle and brief on more than one occasion.

* * *

Brienne went to an outer hallway that surrounded one of the courtyards from above. Sitting on the marble balustrade, she could see Peck and Piper training while Jaime corrected their postures and gave them directions of how to properly strike with a sword. Not that they didn't know, but Jaime did it out of habit.

Brienne knew him. She had seen parts of his soul. She had known his cruelty and also his kindness. She had seen him mourn his sister and children, and also accept life without them. However, she did not know if he had forgiven Cersei; she did not know if Cersei would want forgiveness. According to the people of the Seven Kingdoms, she was a destructive force, but a force to be feared and remembered. And Jaime…he was a man who wanted to protect his king, take back a little of his honor. He never desired power; he only wanted to be a father. It was hard to think that both siblings could look so much alike on the outside and be as different as the sun or the moon inside their hearts.

But he still loved Cersei, that was for certain. Brienne tried not to think about it - tried to bury any hint of her old longing. What she had with Jaime could never be compared. They were companions, friends, brothers in arms. Brienne supposed that he had a certain fondness for her, and she felt...something she didn't want to name. The despair would be too much to bear.

As if sensing her presence, Jaime looked up and saw her. He smiled, a beautiful, warm smile, and raised his golden hand to greet her.

She waved at him, shyly this time. She still was a little ashamed about their discussion at the inn. They both now felt the weight of what they had sworn to Jon Snow in the north, when death had risen against them but he was right. The game never ended, there were always new players and new victims. She was not made for that.

Daenerys had arrived and conquered Westeros from the hands of her rival, the false Aegon Targaryen. Then she had flown north with her dragons and helped win the Winter War. And when they survived the unthinkable, she had returned to King's Landing, bringing with her Jaime as a prisoner. Those were dark days. Brienne had despaired many times. She had tried to convince Tyrion Lannister and Queen Daenerys to spare his life. Neither gave it importance. But one day, after weeks in prison, they had released him and Brienne had felt such joy that she had gone to the sept to thank the Seven. What things they negotiated, what deals they made, Brienne never knew, and not even her father had wanted to tell her. She consoled herself by thinking that at least he was alive and free, as free as he could be.

_Last night I went to see my love, to hear what she might say_

_To see if she'd take pity on me, lest I might go away_

The singer sang, far far away and Brienne missed her home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elaynne is inspired in Elaine from celtic and arthurian mythology.  
> The song is "The Moorlough Shore", a beautiful irish ballad. I adapted some bits to Westeros lore.  
> Brienne is pinning, I know, I know, but love needs to endure angst to win and last, of course?  
> Jaime doesn't have it easy either.


	4. The kingswood

The queen liked her archery lesson so much that she repeated it on a second and third day. Brienne could no longer escape. She was part of the queen's entourage, with a group of highborn ladies and lords, servants, dothraki warriors, Unsullied soldiers and some knights of the Kingsguard.

Up to a point they went on horseback and then continued on foot. The party settled in a clearing in the woods. Oaks, elms and beech abounded, the smell was fragrant and the grass humid. In Tarth the forests consisted of pine, birch, rowan, poplar and juniper. Ferns, mosses, and lichens covered the land.

The kingswood had suffered two fires in recent times - first from the Battle of the Blackwater and then by the dragons of Daenerys when she had fought the false Aegon Targaryen. This fire could only be compared to the one King Aegon IV provoked with his wood-and-iron dragons filled with wildfire.

The queen's personal guard consisted of her bloodriders and Unsullieds. Daenerys trusted them with her life. She had kept the seven knights of the Kingsguard for tradition and because the noble houses wanted it. She had allowed them to marry and inherit property. The only one who had declined a marriage had been Loras Tyrell. Daenerys had named him Lord Commander because she had seen him fight bravely in the north.

Irri, Jhiqui and Missandei accompanied the queen too. They were neither servants nor ladies. They had sumptuous dresses, wealth and houses in King's Landing. Their only duty was to walk with the queen and entertain her. Of course the high born ladies did not see them with good eyes, but they took care to hide their annoyance in front of the queen. All except for Lady Desmera Redwyne, whose dismayed looks and angry expression did not even escape Brienne.

She liked them; they seemed kind, especially Missandei. She was a sweet and beautiful girl, who sometimes talked with her about the customs of Westeros and the difference between the accent of people from the south and from the north.

“Lady Brienne!” Daenerys said as she waved her hand. “This is a lovely day. The sun, the sky, the forest. The Usurper died here. I find it charming,” she said tersely.

“Actually, Robert died in his bed,” Ser Jorah Mormont informed her.

The man was a notable warrior and counselor to the queen. His own family had refused to let him take over as Warden of the North. It had been a scandal at the start of Daenerys' reign.

The queen rolled her eyes. “Oh, let me pretend at least,” she said waving her bow.

Brienne smiled but said nothing. Daenerys approached her. She was wearing a vest of leather over a linen shirt and baggy ankle length trousers, a single long braid adorned with little bells fell over her back. The queen was beaming that day, and Brienne suppressed a hint of envy.

 _Don't be silly_ , she told herself. _You long ago gave up vanity._

“I am following your example,” Daenerys said as she pointed to her trousers. “More comfortable.”

Brienne felt her square, freckled face burn. Some of those present looked at her with curiosity. She ignored them and said, “I’m glad, your Grace.”

“Yesterday you did not participate. Today I want you to show us your skills. The best archers and arrows are from Tarth,” the queen added, not without kindness.

“I’m an archer more of battles than tournaments, your Grace,” Brienne admitted. “But yes, the arrows of Tarth are unmatched.”

Lady Beth Celtigar intervened, waving over her face a fan made of blue feathers. A thick curtain of black curls fell past her shoulders and her eyes were dark pits full of mischief. She was wearing a satin dress with small blue feathers on the neck and cuffs. The lady was younger than the queen, but no less bold.

“No wonder they say that the Dothraki are formidable warriors,” she said fanning herself furiously. She was observing two men who were conversing in their language. Brienne had to admit they were handsome, strong, and taller than she was, and that was hard to find on the mainland.

“Who will be the first?” Lady Margaery asked, stepping forward. She was exquisitely dressed in a green silk gown with a wide skirt. Her bow had golden flowers painted on a green base, matching her gown.

Lady Moira Blackwood got into position. A large target was a few yards away. She had grace, but was not a great beauty. She learned fast and finished first in the small competition the day before.

Three knights of the Kingsguard, including Ser Loras Tyrell, observed with a prudential distance. Lady Moira fixed her gaze, tightened the rope, and released the arrow. She hit the center. Those present applauded.

Lady Margaery joined the little group.

“Your Grace, ladies,” she greeted. “The kingswood is so lovely. We can go later to pick flowers. It is spring after all.”

“Yes,” Lady Beth replied, “We can make garlands and wreaths. Don't look so horrified, Lady Brienne.”

“Sorry,” Brienne replied mortified.

“It is neither dangerous nor bad,” Lady Margaery laughed gleefully and took Brienne's arm. “We’ll only enjoy nature.”

“If something dangerous happens I will protect you,” Brienne replied with a stoic expression.

“Oh, please teach me how to use a sword. It will be very fun,” Lady Beth said.

“You're insane! You can hurt yourself!” Lady Margaery intervened. "Tell her,” she pressed Brienne.

“I have not brought a sword,” she replied, looking at her unarmed hips.

“What a pity,” Lady Beth pouted.

Lady Desmera came forward, bow and arrow in hand. She aimed very carefully, yet failed. The lady had a terrible tantrum, throwing the bow on the ground and stomping on it several times. Irri and Jhiqui smiled demurely, the knights of the Kingsguard chuckled, and the Dothraki warriors laughed openly.

Apparently, Lady Desmera did not like losing. A blond lock escaped her hairnet as she flailed, and her pale white face was filled with red spots. Brienne felt a little sorry for her. Lady Margaery and Lady Beth exchanged glances, but they hid well any feelings for the Redwyne girl.

Daenerys was silent for a long time, her gaze lost at some point, far away from everyone.

“Your Grace?” Brienne asked gently.

“I've never made flower garlands,” the queen mused, her violet eyes somewhat melancholic.

“It is one of the joys of life,” Lady Margaery replied, taking the queen's hand.

“I would love to do it,” she stated, recovering from her peculiar reverie. “Will you join us Lady Brienne?”

“W-well…” she stuttered.

“It will be-” Lady Beth started.

“-a lot of fun,” Lady Margaery finished rolling her eyes.

“We can plan the celebration for the party coming from the North,” said Queen Daenerys with a brilliant smile.

“I hope Lady Sansa brings a group of handsome knights and lords with her,” Lady Beth sighed, fanning furiously again.

“You don't like the ones we already have at King's Landing?” Lady Margaery asked her with friendly impatience.

“The city softens them too much. I want something more...rough.”

“We can make plans,” intervened Daenerys. Her tone was circumspect, and Brienne did not doubt that the queen had many plans in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the dothraki are hot. Lady Beth is me!


	5. Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Tarthiana for being my lovely beta!

She had betrayed him. The memory was a perennial sorrow for Jaime. He had realized very soon that she was lying to him. She had never been good at hiding in falsehoods. He also knew that it was for something important, something above him, something that she valued  _ more _ than him. His sweet and stubborn wench. She had betrayed him, and although Jaime told himself he had forgiven her, the memory still haunted him in his dreams.

So he dreamt. They were back in the woods. The monster Catelyn Stark had become was demanding his blood. The Maid of Tarth killed her for it. Three men had tried to stop Brienne, and she fought them. The boy, Robert's bastard, helped her with a sword that burned with a golden fire. Several men died that day. Podrick Payne and that wretched hedge knight survived. She was satisfied with this, although her choice was bitter. Jaime knew the wench. Brienne would forever resent what had happened.

After she had collapsed,Jaime ran to her side. He couldn't lose her, not like that - it wasn't fair. Brienne smiled at him, hurt, bleeding. The whole world could turn against him, but if Brienne smiled at him like that, then it was worth it. In his dream she was beautiful; she was the Warrior and the Maiden. In reality, she was just homely girl with a sword and too much honor, another soldier wounded by war.

His old dream ended with Brienne smiling in his arms. In reality, Jaime had brought her to the Quiet Isle and prayed for her. The days the wench had been in bed, when he was told that she was not going to recover, she was just…dying. Those were memories that left him feeling numb.

So he prayed, and at the end she was alive. She was the Maiden and the Warrior after all.

* * *

Addam Marbrand accompanied Jaime at lunch in his rooms. They ate soup made with sweet pumpkins, pork pie, turnips soaking in butter, and fried fish. Tyrion had given him a cook from Lannisport who made exquisite seafood recipes. For dessert there were baked apples, blueberry tarts and honeycombs. Addam and Jaime’s friendship had grown after they both fought in the North. That was a harsh, strange winter. He was the only man Jaime trusted in King's Landing. With Addam, he could talk about the court or the queen without the fear of losing his head to a bad joke.

They ate and sat on the balcony while drinking wine. Addam was prone to food and drink feasts. He enjoyed life; he was similar to Tyrion - the old Tyrion - in that regard. His little brother was a sweet child, a witty and vivacious young man. Now Jaime could barely recognize him.

Jaime, unlike Addam, felt he had to take life with calm. After all, he had never imagined that he would survive the North. Winter, the Starks, and the Walkers had been formidable foes, each one colder than the last. The things he had seen, the power of death and magic, had been imbued in his memory and would live in him forever.

Once Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow, and Bran Stark had defeated the Others - with fire, dragons, incantations and prayers - Jaime had come to terms with the fact that his role was over, and when Daenerys had brought him to King's Landing as spoils of war, he was resigned. His sweet sister was dead, taking their children with her. Life had lost its charm.

Daenerys was crowned queen, and he was thrown into a dungeon. For weeks Jaime simply awaited death. He knew that Tyrion wanted to see him dead, but the execution never came, and one day he received the queen’s forgiveness. Jaime was tempted to refuse, to spit on the silver woman what he thought about it, but Tyrion visited his cell with Brienne's letters.

There were dozens; she had written to him almost daily. Tyrion had read them all - several times over from what Jaime could see. She had put her whole soul into those letters. How could he leave her alone in a world that would feed on her innocence until she was empty? So he agreed to bend the knee and trade the dungeon for life in a different prison. Tyrion was his jailer. He had decided where Jaime would live, who would be his servants, whom he could visit or who could visit him. He had given him certain diplomatic and political activities to keep him busy. His little brother rarely talked about Brienne, and Jaime didn't know if that would ease him or worry him more.

It was lonely and boring work to be the pawn of his brother, even with Addam along for company. Peck and Pipper, formerly Jaime's squires, were now knights in their own right. He had affection for the lads, but it was not the same. In the evenings, in the solitude of his rooms, he thought of Brienne. He missed her.

“Daenerys does not know whether to keep the Warden titles,” Addam said as he contemplated his almost empty bronze cup.

“She believes that she has already given many concessions to high born families,” Jaime replied, feeling the sea breeze caressing his face.

“There is already a fight over potential candidates, and Mace Tyrell believes he is still Warden of the South,” Addam smiled.

“Some men never change,” Jaime replied, refilling his friend’s cup with wine. His own was barely touched.

“They said if the queen accepts the request of the nobles, she will give the south to Lord Selwyn,” Addam said with the same smile of certainty.

“Where is he now?” Jaime asked, not without harshness.

“Negotiating with the Iron Bank,” Addam answered.

Jaime looked for the blue of the sea that could be seen from his balcony. The salty smell of the water hid the pungent scent of the city. “He should be here,” he mused, “protecting his daughter.”

His friend dedicated a singular look to him. “I fought under your Lady’s command. I don't think she needs protection from anyone.”

Jaime moved in his chair, uncomfortable. “She needs to be on her island, not here,” he said angrily. “And she is not  **_my_ ** lady.”

Addam drank his wine with a knowing expression. “The queen is organizing a large number of marriage agreements,” he added. “She is only waiting for the northern party to arrive.”

“Aye,” Jaime nodded.

“They say that after the tournament she plans to make the announcement. Several betrotheds will marry at the same time. There will probably be a big ceremony in the gardens and then a banquet,” Addam said as he scratched his copper beard. He still had a boyish expression, like a squire full of mischief.

“Now you can't run away anymore,” Jaime joked, raising his cup.

“I'm old now. Maybe it would do me good to take a wife and fight her on rugs and napkins,” his friend replied, pleased. “And you?”

“I'm old too,” Jaime said, narrowing his eyes.

“Don't you want a wife?”

Jaime pondered it for a second. In the distance seagulls flew over the port looking for food. The sky was covered with thin trails of clouds, and the day was quiet.

“The white cloak...” Jaime began, “I thought something like  **_that_ ** would never happen.”

“They say the queen is bent on you. Some tongues sing that she wants you for her.”

“Daenerys wants to see me die slowly and in pain,” Jaime denied. “She wants nothing else. So maybe she will decide to leave me in the clutches of Tyene Sand.”

“There are bets to know who will get into your bed,” his friend said cheerfully. “Widows, maidens and married women alike, bargain with the hope. They also say that there are houses that have offered a large amount of gold for having you as a groom.”

“They don't mind having the Kingslayer as their kin?”

“No. They want children with golden hair and green eyes.”

“The queen is also hell-bent on getting a good marriage for your Lady Brienne.”

“She is not my-”

“She is your friend, of course. Lady Brienne is also my friend; that's why I want the best for her.”

“And you think the best thing for her is to get married?” Jaime asked harshly. Suddenly he felt a sour taste on his tongue.

“No, I don't think it's for the best. I think it is part of life - she needs a partner. She is an heiress after all. No one should carry all the weight alone.”

Jaime bit his lower lip. When had the Lord of Ashemark had become so wise? “Someone to fight over napkin designs?” he jested, recovering his good humor.

“She is old too.”

“Not like us.”

“She is no longer a girl, Jaime. She has grown quite a bit.”

“I don't think the queen can find anyone worthy of Brienne,” Jaime said with finality.

“Well, that's something else entirely.” Addam had that same peculiar look.

“Who will it be?” Jaime pressed. “You already heard something, right?”

The man answered after a pause, “Robert's bastard son.”

Jaime looked at his half-full cup. The flight of the seagulls disturbed him, and the salty breeze stung his eyes. “Hmm, that would be ironic.”  _ She will marry Renly’s ghost, _ he thought.

* * *

He saw Brienne on a spiral staircase. He was going down, and she was coming up, accompanied by a lady that he did not remember the name of. Brienne had a flower crown on her head, her straw-colored hair escaping from the tight braid that Pia had made for her.

She had been listening to what the woman was saying and was nodding. A few steps away from him she looked up. Her huge and beautiful blue eyes met him. The light coming through one of the windows illuminated her face. She smiled at him.

“Ladies,” he said with a brief curtsy.

“Good to see you,” replied the woman shaking a fan.

“Ser Jaime,” Brienne said, looking shy like always. In battle she was a goddess, brave like no other with a sword, but in King's Landing she was like any young maiden.

Jaime wanted to say something funny to make her smile and blush again, but there was that woman, and he didn't mean to take a wrong step. Maybe Jaime should accept Brienne's offer to train together, or maybe he should ask her to meet him at the inn again. However, what highborn lady would sneak off with a disgraced knight?

Jaime didn't stay to chat with them and came down in a hurry looking for Tyrion.

* * *

Brienne tried to disguise her emotions in front of Lady Beth. Although her company pleased Brienne, she was not used to dealing with ladies like her. Brienne felt like she was about to go into battle, alert and waiting for the enemy's lunge.

“I think Jaime Lannister made a pact with the Stranger,” Lady Beth said, fanning herself. “No one can look so handsome, and it seems that the passage of time only accentuates his beauty.” The woman seemed very innocent in her comment, but Brienne knew well that no woman was innocent with Jaime Lannister.

“You two are acquaintances?” the lady continued, looking at her with intelligent eyes. Brienne was not so certain. Not anymore.

“I met him many years ago in the War of the Five Kings,” Brienne answered. “We were enemies at first, then allies. In the North we fought together; he saved my life several times.”

“I see.”

Brienne cleared her throat and changed the subject. “The queen is excited about the idea of arranging marriages.”

“The queen has a keen eye for strategy,” Lady Beth said with a serious expression. She slammed her fan shut. “Life here is like this. You know, Lady Brienne, I am a widow, and I have little intention of remarrying. I suspect, however, that Lady Margaery already has a candidate for me. We have been friends for a long time. I came to town when she was crowned queen. I let her cry on my shoulder when King Tommen died and when the crown was taken from her. But I'm still a piece in the game,” she mused.

Brienne narrowed her eyes. “But she's your friend, she cares about you.”

The lady smiled. “It doesn't make me mad. I know she's a great player, and I know there's always something bigger. The common good is not always built with kindness, but with practicality.”

“Did you love your husband?” Brienne asked impulsively.

This time Lady Beth’s smile was warm. “The first time I saw him, I cried desolate. He had a very stern face and didn't speak much. I wanted to marry the Knight of Flowers. I think we all want that when we are young - a handsome knight in armor, brave and bold. Instead they gave me a groom who was thoughtful and had a big nose.” The lady whispered. “The wedding night almost didn't happen. We were both very nervous. But he was kind and…I enjoyed it.” She took Brienne’s hand. “In time I got to know him better. He was funny, witty and generous. In a few months I was totally in love. It took me a long time to figure it out, of course. Love makes us stupid. Fear stuns our minds. Sometimes we don't see what we have in front of us.”

Both reached the end of the stairs. Brienne asked her, “If you had the opportunity to choose, would you choose the honorable man again with his stern face?”

“Yes, I want a good man,” said Lady Beth. “More if he is wicked in bed this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Si saben español y les interesa compartir con el fandom latino, aquí les dejo una invitación de Discord! [ASOIAF GOT FANFIC](https://discord.gg/SvSaBVY)


	6. The tournament

The queen's personal apartments were large. Daenerys had chosen an uninhabited wing of Maegor's Holdfast that she entirely rebuilt, collapsing some walls and lifting up others. The men worked for days and moons. Lord Tyrion brought masons from Norvos and Braavos. They used marble from Tarth, red stones from a quarry outside King's Landing, and bricks made of baked clay from Sunspear. The final result was a Guard room, two antechambers -- one where Daenerys dined and one where she reunited privately with her counselors and ladies-in-waiting--, and, the most sumptuous and intimate room, the queen’s bedchamber (only seen by the maids and her close friends).

The queen was standing in front of a mirror while a seamstress was taking her measurements with diligence. On another small table next to Daenerys a dozen rolls of cloth were stacked. Brienne could distinguish silk, satin, lace and velvet with cotton, linen and wool. Vivid and discrete colors, fabrics so thick that they looked like they were made for the North and others as thin as spider webs.

With Brienne was Lady Margaery, Lady Beth, Lady Moira and Missandei, all sitting around a small round table, on which a large number of letters rested. Missandei took a parchment from the pile and spread it out. She wore a purple tunic with rich silver embroidery and had her curly hair loose on her shoulders, her round face looked rubbing and vivacious. Her golden eyes showed great intelligence. Brienne admired that the girl was fluent in several languages that allowed her to translate the queen's correspondence.

“A merchant from Ib offers his boats and ships,” Missandei said, taking a look. “And here, a noblewoman from Leng offers pearls and jades in exchange of seeds.”

“I need more ships, but I can't ask for them until Lord Selwyn returns from his visit to the Iron Bank,” Daenerys said, looking in the mirror. Her long silver hair fell to her hip like a silky, wavy sea. The dressmaker had wrapped her in a lavender tunic, embroidered with pearls and gold beads. Brienne caught her breath; the queen was beautiful and regal. For a moment Brienne entertained herself with the idea of what she would look like in that tunic. Nonsense. She aborted the image as soon as it crossed her mind.

Lady Margaery took another parchment. “They’ve seen pirates in Oldtown. People think they're iron men, but the Greyjoys deny any incursion.”

Daenerys considered the matter for a moment then said, “I’ll write to Asha, ask her about this again.”

“That'll take weeks,” Lady Margaery insisted. “We need a solution for Hightower’s plea.”

“You must organize a coastal defense,” Brienne interrupted with a barely audible voice. “It won't be difficult, after the wars there will be people with some experience in battle.”

“That's interesting,” Lady Moira said. “It is a common tactic, to train the peasants to defend their villages from possible attacks. Maybe we can send a couple of good soldiers to organize them.”

“Yes. Hightower’s soldiers can instruct the men, but I’ll send one knight of the King’s guard and a pair of Unsullied for the task anyway. Fantastic!” the queen exclaimed. “Well done Lady Brienne, Lady Moira.” She smiled in recognition, waving her head.

“It's not a big deal,” Brienne blushed. “Lord Tyrion could have come up with the same idea and faster. Moreover, in Tarth we're used to dealing with pirates.”

“But I don’t ask Tyrion,” Daenerys said and turned around, “and this is your advice, which please me very much.”

Lady Margaery smiled. “Oh, sweetheart, you need to take a compliment with a simple ‘Thank you,’ no matter what. This is your little victory.”

“My victory, too,” smiled Lady Moira.

“I'm not good with sweet words,” Brienne said defensively.

“Words are easy,” Daenerys said as she approached the table and began to check the fabrics. “Facts, on the other hand, are something else.”

It was a lesson Brienne had learned a long time ago. She looked away and around.

Red, gold and black tapestries draped the walls of the Skull antechamber. They called it that because a gigantic dragon skull was hanging over the front door, receiving the visitors. Thick Myrish curtains covered the windows, and silk cushions decorated armchairs and lounge chairs made from wood of the Summer Islands. At the end of a narrow little corridor, a huge iron door closed the bedchamber. One Unsullied guarded the entrance, two more stood guard outside the front door.

_ That's my place _ , she thought. But the queen had other plans.

“Now let's talk about the tournament,” the queen added, delighted. 

* * *

In the hallway, Jaime heard a woman singing. She had a sweet, warm voice.

_ Where the primrose blows and the violet grows… _

He remembered that song. The cold winter beyond the Wall made him torment the wench with such melody. How she had blushed and scolded. How he had laughed. Brienne was every ounce of a proper and prim lady; she always was, even if she didn't want to admit the fact or if she didn't know it at all.

_ Where the trout and salmon play… _

The singer was sitting in a corner, surrounded by a group of children. The woman wore a shiny purple tunic and had her cinnamon skin painted with colorful tattoos. The group laughed, clapped and sang on par in a cheerful bustle. Now, there were always children in the Red Keep, and Jaime called them “the swarm.” They were noisy and filled the halls with their innocent antics and games.

On the Wall they had welcomed a large number of children, mostly wildings and villagers. A few were of noble birth. Among them were Tommen and Myrcella that had reveled in sharing their days with the free folk and common peasants. They were happy, if only for a short time. And most importantly, they had met Brienne. She had been clumsy and gentle with them, but the three got along faster than Jaime had hoped. When the fever came, her touch was the last one they had felt, and her face the last thing they had seen.

_ With my line and hook, delight I took… _

Dozens died. Jaime had also fallen ill, but he had been luckier than his sire. He was able to recover to light the pyres. There was no choice but to burn the corpses. Jon had taken care of that. Jon, who now was a shadow, but then had become a hero from legends and songs. A man like him can live a thousand lives. The swords were with him. Jaime missed them of course, however their purpose always belonged to Jon. It was something magical. Jaime felt that all was a joke from the gods. And the gods were always cruel. Always.

_ To spend my youthful days… _

Jaime walked down the aisle and left behind the voice. The place of the song, that idyllic spot, made him think of Tarth. It wasn't that he knew it personally, but Brienne had said several times that he’d be welcome on her island. Oh the wench, stubborn and lovely. Jaime suspected however that Lord Selwyn would not be so happy to receive him.

* * *

Brienne didn't feel like joining Lord Tyrion to discuss the tournament, but neither the queen nor him would allow a dereliction of duty any longer. His father had sent a crow with news about the Iron Bank, and the queen seemed satisfied so she requested the early organization of the tournament.

So Brienne was in Lord Tyrion's office, making lists about guests and costs. The place was adorned with golden and terracotta tapestries and gilded curtains, and the huge furniture was filled with books and scrolls. It smelled like the master's little library in Tarth did. The place also had that Lannister air, and it was inevitable to think of Jaime.

“The queen sets the rewards for the tourney at 4000 golden dragons to the winner of the joust,” Lord Tyrion wrote on a paper as he talked. The pen scratched the surface and gave Brienne a tingle.

“That sum is ridiculous,” she said without thinking.

“Queen Daenerys wants to be generous. But if you find this amount exorbitant, you didn't know the defunct Robert,” Tyrion said as he continued scratching the paper.

“It's curious,” Brienne mused. “My father's not given a waste either. I find it hard to believe he agrees with all this.”

“Lord Selwyn agrees. In fact, this was all his idea.”

_ I don't know my father anymore. Men seem to be as fickle as women.  _ Brienne took one of the guest lists and began reading. All the most important noble families were there. Of course, everyone would send a representative, no matter the distance; Daenerys and her dragons wouldn't allow excuses. Rumor said that a large number of houses grew in discontent with her reign. Everyone had bent their knees looking to save themselves from the fire, but the time passed and bravery returned slowly. Wounded pride was a terrible adviser.

“Is my brother enjoying his new duties?” Tyrion suddenly asked, pretending innocence.

“I don't know how I could know.”

“You two have always been...good friends,” he said again in a hesitant tone.

“I think I've always given you the same answer. We're brothers in arms. That was in times of war.”

“A yearning for the war?” Tyrion asked with amusement.

Brienne was offended. “War is not a frivolous game. You know it more than anyone.”

“I know it. It’s not frivolous for Jaime either. You know what else worries your brother in arms?”

“Loyalty,” answered Brienne without doubt.

“Yes,” said Tyrion, “and love. They are worn like a banner for Jaime. Summers and winters can pass, but he forgets no one.”

“Yes,” Brienne agreed in a quiet voice.

“Unlike me, he's not a man who holds a grudge. He is not ambitious, and is able to surrender in body and soul,” Tyrion reflected. “But in return for him the expectation is reciprocity. Anyone can say he only wants these two things. But he really wants everything. Mere mortals hardly reach the standard.”

“You still care for him,” Brienne mused with surprise.

Tyrion didn't expect that answer. “Lady Brienne, you…”

“If you love him, why don't you forgive him?”

“The bastard told you”, Tyrion looked down and wrote again. He squeezed the pen tightly. “I can’t, my lady. Unlike my brother, I don't forget an offense”.

“You're more stubborn than me.”

“I'm a lost case,” Tyrion told Brienne after a pause.

She didn't want to press on a secret that wasn't hers.  _ I've said too much. _

He took one of his lists. “We need 2000 dragons for the winner of the melee, and 1000 dragons to the winner of the archery competition.”

_ That is a fortune _ , Bienne thought again.

“That is a fortune,” said a deep voice at the same time, following the crackling of the door.

It was Jaime. He was standing on the threshold with an ironic smile on his lips and an indecisive look. He didn't expect to find her there.  _ Better _ . Brienne was tired of playing cat and mouse with him, with Tyrion, with everyone.

_ He kissed you _ , a little voice said in her head.

_ One time, you fool _ , said another voice.  _ It means nothing. _

“The queen is austere in her wishes,” exclaimed Tyrion with a smile.

The hooded cloak Jaime wore was white, a soft piece of velvet. The beard gave his face a rough, handsome look, she noted. “My lady,” he greeted her with a stern face, walking toward the table.

“Ser,” she said in return, blushing red like a hot coal.

“You two are a couple of misers. I cannot imagine how sad and grey this kingdom would be if you were the sovereigns.” Tyrion looked between them with a wolfish expression and pointed out a seat next to Brienne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Moorlough Shore by Sinéad O'Connor.
> 
> Si saben español y les interesa compartir con el fandom latino, aquí les dejo una invitación de Discord! [ASOIAF GOT FANFIC](https://discord.gg/SvSaBVY)


End file.
